This Year's Model
by DarkPhoenixIncarnate
Summary: ONESHOT! "And let's not forget Yzma's right-hand man. Every decade or so she gets a new one. This year's model is called Kronk" -Kuzco


((...I love this way too much. First fic written in months, omg. I'm going to hell for this.))

_"And let's not forget Yzma's right-hand man. Every decade or so she gets a new one. This year's model is called Kronk" -Kuzco_

At times she felt as though she was the laughing stock of the whole kingdom. It was her pride...and his very existence that told her otherwise. Yzma was never one to indulge herself, the line she kept between work and pleasure had become so thick that the 'pleasure' side had disappeared entirely.

Before she could even comprehend it the 'best' years of her life had passed and faded. All that ever showed for it was the continuous sagging of skin, and the long black locks of her hair, slowly falling and fading away along with the passage of time.

Still she cast the thoughts aside, never giving them much attention. Instead her focus was upon the young soon-to-be emperor. She devoted herself and what was left of her youth to him, just as she had done to his father. Near his death he asked her, his most trusted adviser to take the place of the soon to be orphan's parents.

With dark eyes full of heavy tears she accepted the task, clenching the screaming toddler against her slowly sagging bosom, hushing his sobs and replacing them with her own.

It was nearly 10 years later when the passing of time truly struck her.

It started with a mummer, whispering to her in her uneasy sleep. Breathless and whining and full of something…something…

She jolted to the sound of a girlish scream, soon turned into a giggle before quieting down, the silence resuming once again. With a low grumble Yzma forced her weary body from the bed, her long modest nightgown trailing along the stone as she made her way over to the window in her bedroom.

As she neared, the sounds of laughter, breathless and husky grew louder and more irritating. She gripped the cool metal and leaned out of circular hole, scanning the moonlit grounds with a scowl on her face.

Movement registered in the side of her vision and she whirled to the left, raising her fist and getting ready to shout at the ones who disrupted her sleep. Instead the angered screams died in her throat, and she watched with wide eyed awe at the movements of the two.

Young lovers.

Part of her mind attempted to will herself into action, to shout at them to do such a thing INDOORS and not pressed hard and flush against the palace walls. But she was struck mute by the sight.

She could not recognize the couple. The man was a royal palace guard that much was obvious. And the young woman? Well, she let out the lewdest moan Yzma had ever heard, her hips thrusting foreword into the guard. He grunted in return, whispering something to her and arching his great broad back foreword, pressing the woman harder and harder into the wall.

She felt warm…and no matter how hard she tried, Yzma could not tear her gaze away from them. The guard especially. She watched how the moonlight kissed his skin, her eyes straining in their old age to see the well-toned flesh of his broad back.

She watched as his muscles moved and retracted with each deeply penetrating thrust, the paint along his skin dripping down with the sweat from his strained movements.

It was only when the guard released himself within the woman with an almost VIOLENT force that Yzma was able to turn away.

She felt heavy, her legs shook as she gripped the wall for support, the sounds from the lovers drowned away as her pulse pounded in her ears.

Old desire welled up inside of her, pooling in her chest and dispersing through her skin, making everything hot and flush. With an almost whining moan she pressed her front against the cool stone wall, willing herself to just _breathe _and calm down.

She couldn't force the image out of her mind, she couldn't stop herself from seeing her own body in place of the woman's, pressed flush against that wall and fucked until her whole body was numb.

When was the last time…?

It was then the steps and choices she had made came tumbling into her mind, all finding their rightful place in her consciousness. All of them crumbling her inner walls of denial without so much as a sound, and with a horrified sob she made her way over to her mirror.

The sight of her sunken cheeks, her sagged breasts, was enough to make her crack.

For next few days all that surrounded her were whispers. Guards and servants alike would stop their meaningless tasks; only to gawk at the old woman dressed as though she was in her twenties.

She wore her old dresses with pride once she found that she still had the figure for them, and instead of letting her face stay bare and her hairless scalp show she masked them both with makeup and wigs.

Her false eyelashes extended well past her cheeks, and were the source of giggles in the servant girl's rooms.

The long feathered hats she wore became the source of uproarious laughter from the guards as she sauntered by, shaking her hips with far too much energy and diligence for such an old woman.

She wasn't stupid, she knew what they said and thought, but Yzma didn't care. She felt YOUNG again, for the first time in _years_ she was herself again, witty and charming and full of seductive grace.

But what really 'sealed the deal', so to speak, was when she found herself in need of a new 'right-hand-man'. In the past, she had been modest. Never once had Yzma chosen a man based on anything but their qualifications. She cared nothing for their looks; all she wanted was an intelligent man to help her with dictations and running the meaningless tasks of the palace.

She never once looked at those men as anything other then 'the help' always so lost in her duties to her past emperor and the boy king.

Yet now she observed the man in front of her with cold eyes. His short, stout form so very unappealing to her. Yzma slouched in her golden chair, the large feathers around her drooping along the armrests. She heard not a word he was saying, as was the same as the last 20 or so men she had interviewed for the job.

She interrupted him in mid-speech and waved her hand in the air, proclaiming loudly;

"Send him away…_NEXT_!"

The short man jumped, his eyes widening and jaw clenching. Before he could say a word he was picked up by two faceless, nameless guards and carried away.

Yzma rubbed her tired eyelids, being careful not to wipe away any of her mascara or thick blue eye shadow. After another moment of silence she shouted; "I SAID, _**NEXT**_!"

"Gah! S-Sorry your majesty!" Came a deep voice, it was thick with fear and awe and the sound caused her body to jolt. She sat up immediately and regarded the man who was peaking his head through the crack in the large golden door.

She could TASTE his fear, and a smirk found it's way to her old, painted lips. "You are forgiven…" She spoke, her voice easily lowering an octave; "Please, come in…" The false kindness sounded believable even to her own ears, and slowly the door opened wider, the young man stepping into the room.

Heat pulsed through her veins immediately at the sight of him…long, firm legs…thin waist and a strong upper torso. The perfect male form, capable of making even Adonis himself jealous.

She nearly salivated at the sight, and promptly sat up straighter, crossing one leg over the other and showing of her pale skin. The feathers of her costume erect as her posture.

"Come closer."

Shyly, without making eye contact the younger man took a few steps closer to her. Even with his head bowed Yzma could see how he chewed his bottom lip, nervous and humbled by her presence. It _thrilled_ her.

"Lift your head boy…look me in the eyes and tell me your name…" She kept her tone firm, anticipation in her welling to the surface, more then anything she wanted to see his face.

He toyed with his fingers behind his back, and slowly, agonizingly slowly he lifted his head so that she could see him properly. "K-Kronk…" He managed to say, his gaze anywhere but on her skin.

She wanted to feel his eyes on her.

Leaning foreword she put a hand to her ear, "What was that?" She spoke, a smile slithering it's way onto her lips. "I couldn't hear you~"

He winced at the request, and after a few deep breaths and light muttering to himself, he managed to straighten his spine. His arms came to his sides as he stopped fiddling with his fingers.

Once gaze touched her skin she felt she could _moan_. "Kronk…My name is Kronk."

She had barely heard him.

Yzma allowed the silence to last only for a moment, just enough time to compose herself and make him start to sweat again before she spoke. Her tone was all lust and seduction as she sat back in her chair, puffing up her chest as she spoke. "Kronk…Is it? Pleased to meet you, Kronk."

Her tone had drawn his gaze onto her skin yet again, and she felt a pleasant tingle move through her. Yzma closed her eyes for a split second to enjoy the sensation, before opening them once again.

They zeroed in on him, hunger and desire burning through his clothing as she imagined his well-toned chest, nude and hot and sleek with sweat, contracting with each puff of breath.

She kept this image in her mind as she interviewed him, her gaze did not falter and she knew he was aware of it. The way he squirmed under the gaze, squeezed his legs together and bit at his lips pleased her deeply.

From what she did hear of his words it was quite obvious that this boy had nowhere near the mental capacity to do the job she requested of him. But even still she could not resist, old desire was forcing his way into her again, making her long forgotten organs jolt and _ache_.

There was only one thing left to do.

"Kronk…" She began, interrupting him in mid speech about his meaningless qualifications. He immediately silenced himself, not at all offended with the interruption and instead awaiting her words eagerly.

Oh yes, she needed to make this one hers. "If I am to give you this job…" It was as though she had offered a treat to a starving puppy; his innocent doe eyes widened and the lean muscles in his arms began clenching in his excitement.

He could barely contain his smile, and she could barely hold back the powerful urge to smirk. Instead she licked her lips and leaned foreword; her low cut dress revealing what was left of her cleavage. "You must be prepared to do anything I ask of you…"

"Yes! Anything!" So, so eager. It excited her to no end. She wondered if she could get used to that kind of devotion.

"Ah, ah, ah," She tsk-ed at him, wagging her finger with that sultry smile still on her lips. "You didn't let me finish…" He suddenly seemed dejected, as though punishing himself for a horrible sin. Oh yes, he was _perfect_.

"As I was _saying _Kronk…if I give you this job you must be willing to do anything I ask of you, no exceptions, no questions asked. Whether it be sweeping the floors or killing the emperor himself, you must do anything I command."

He seemed to understand it then, and his doe eyes widened even more (was that even possible?)

Perhaps it was her tone that gave it away, dripping with a sadistic desire, her entire body ached for it and she found herself continuously squeezing her legs together. However she hid her body's reactions well and instead leaned against the arm rest, her long body extended and her chin resting on the back of her fingers.

His sun kissed skin paled lightly as he realized her intentions, and the word left him in a quiet whisper. "…Anything?"

Her grin only widened. "Yes Kronk, _anything_." It was then Yzma decided. If she couldn't have the boy, nobody would. Regardless of his answer she would taste him.

Though of course it would be beneficial for him to agree to her terms, so that she wouldn't have to kill him after indulging herself in his body a few times.

Kronk was silent for a moment, and he tilted his head lightly to the left and to the right, as though receiving responses from people who didn't exist. The action was terribly amusing to her and she found the grin on her lips widening.

_"I'm waiting Kronk…"_

At the sound of her voice he jumped lightly, turning his gaze back to her again. She felt his eyes scan her form, her blood boiling under her skin. Confidence returned to his gaze once again, his deep voice thick, heavy with something she couldn't quite place, but she liked it anyway.

"Yes."

The muscles in his back rippled just like she imagined they would. With a low, lewd cry she bucked her hips up into his again and again. "Kronk!"

Old desire toyed with her again, her pulse pounding and his pants and gasps louder then screams in her ears. "Yzma~" He moaned back, hissing in pain as her long painted nails clawed into his back.

She kept her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, never once letting him pull away from her. Yes…Yes! This is what she had truly desired! This is what she had been missing…she would waste her time no more. No longer would she live her life for another, letting herself rot away and her ambitions turn to dust.

No, she was not done yet. She was far, far from it. Invigorated she matched his unsteady rhythm, before creating her own and making him follow the violently powerful thrusts.

With each orgasm Kronk cried out in his thick, thick voice. The sound washed over Yzma, making her laugh with dark delight as he filled her again and again.

-END-

...No flames please? D:


End file.
